Blame Gravity

Chapter 33

I try to take some deep breaths as James pulls me in and kisses my forehead. I hit the call button on my phone and put it to my ear, my hand shaking. It takes only a few seconds for him to pick up.

"Hey," I whisper hoarsely when he doesn't say anything for a long while.

"Hello, beautiful," he answers, sounding a bit unsure. I hit James gently on the head when he chuckles into my hair.

"Hi, um, can we talk?" I ask. My breath is shaky, and I don't like that.

"Of course, we can."

"I  mean, like, in person."

"Oh. I, uhm. I'm busy, you know. Football practice, and everything." 

Damn it. Is he avoiding me?

"Oh, okay. When do you have time?"

"Monday, I guess."

I nod, inhaling sharply. "Okay, then. Monday it is."

We stay silent for a moment, then he says "Bye."

"Bye."

I put the phone down and sigh. James pulls me closer, but, although it feels nice, I don't pay attention to that. I notice I called Layla yesterday. I don't remember that. 

"What's wrong?" James asks, kissing my hair. 

"I called Layla at 2 AM. And apparently, we talked for two minutes."

He freezes. "Maybe she knows more about what happened," he says quietly after a moment of silence.

"I'll call her, okay?" 

He nods.

And I do. I call her.

"Hey, Luce! Are you okay?" I hear her concerned voice when she picks up.

"Yes, hey. So, uh, I called you at 2 AM, apparently."

"Yes, you did. You don't remember?" There is a different kind of fear in her voice.

"I don't," I state. "What did we talk about?"

"Well," she sighs, "You told me about... James."

I freeze. "What did I tell you, exactly?"

"That he's staying over, and that you two got drunk together. I heard his laugh in the background, as well."

"Only that?"

"Yes," she says, a question in her voice.

"Right. Well, after that, what happened?"

"You asked me if owls have feet because you were trying to settle a debate. I answered the question. After that, you yelled at James for twenty seconds about some sort of bet, then rushedly said goodbye to me, saying that you were going to the shady tattoo shop around the corner. I couldn't reach you after that."

I swallow. "Alright. Thanks, Layla."

"Of course. Good luck with James. Love you!"

"Love you," I say before hanging up. I stay quiet for a moment, then look up at James. "We're going to that tattoo shop to figure out what happened."

"Hell yes, we are."

"Well, you came in,  and you asked me to tattoo some lyrics about bedsheets, or whatever. You offered me 100 dollars, which is more than I usually make, so I accepted it before asking for ID's. Please don't tell the police," the scrawny guy at the tattoo shop begs.

"We won't," James assures him and clears his throat. Then he looks down at me. "Well, that's quite the dead end, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily," I say and look at the artist. "What did we talk about when we were in here?"

He sighs. "I can't recall exactly, but if I remember correctly, while I was working, you were mostly sitting on top of him and... Uhm... kissing, rather than talking."

I know that I'm blushing, and when I look at James from the corner of my eye, I see that he is, as well.

"But you did say something about a guy named Mike, and how dumb he was, or something," the tattoo artist says. 

James snorts, and I nudge him with my elbow. "Right. Well, thanks for your help." 

We go back home.

"Well, that's that," James says. 

"Yeah. It is." It stays silent for a while, then I look at him. "You know, we probably went back home from there. I mean, we went there because you lost a bet about owls, and we didn't really have anything else to do out of the house, did we now?"

James nods but doesn't look at me. "Yes. I guess so." He looks at me and smiles slightly. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" I ask, frowning.

"Being so fucking adorable." He sits closer to me stares into my eyes and lifts my chin as I blush. "Can I kiss you?" he whispers.

"Why do you always ask that?" I ask quietly. "I mean, we practically kiss a million times a day."

He shrugs. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

When I can't take it anymore, I kiss him, lips clashing. It feels like we're both this entangled, hot, colorful, abstract mess, like we are a painting from the time when cubism was a big thing. All I feel is this incredible warmth, this terrible need to know he's okay, to make sure he's okay at all times.

I like him, I suddenly realize. I like him a lot. 

I push the thought away and try to focus on the now. 

I remember the first kiss at the party, the fireworks it ignited in my body; that time in his room later that week, skin on skin, the feeling of his breath against my neck; the way we tried to forget but we couldn't; the trip to London, all the things that happened there; the way we tried to forget that as well but failed miserably, as always; every single moment that led us here. 

I don't even know why this is so special to me. It's just a kiss. We kiss all the time. But this feels special. I don't get it, either.

On Monday, I will definitely tell Mike about how I cheated on him. I don't want to, don't get me wrong. But it wouldn't feel fair if I didn't; not towards him, not towards James, not towards me. And then, I'll just hope for the best. Maybe he doesn't leave me. But honestly, if he would, I'm not sure if I'd mind.

I feel terrible for that thought and try to concentrate on James' lips on mine. He's wrapped his arms around my waist, and I put my hands on his shoulders. I wouldn't change this moment for a million dollars. And this time, I mean it.